Odd
by Skittle.Kitty
Summary: Bella stared at the stately white envelope that was addressed specifically to her. Who would be writing to her? And with such fancy stationary...[Oneshot.BellaxEdward.Fluff]


'Odd,' I thought, staring at the crisp white envelope. I reread the center once more, just to be sure.

Nope.

The text hadn't changed; it was still addressed to me, Isabella Swan.

I tore my eyes away from the envelope for a minute to set down my school books, and to put the rest of the mail, mostly bills, in a pile to wait until Charlie came home. The mail was usually addressed to Charlie. Bills, magazines, and gaudy neon letters screaming that you may already be a winner– all to Charlie. On the rare occasion that I did get a letter, it was usually from school (To The Parents Of Isabella Swan) or some junk scam (To Isabella Dwyer, To Mrs. Isabella Swan or the very charming To Whom It May Concern).

As I climbed the stairs to my room, I flipped over the envelope. A familiar crest was stamped there, with swirling tendril-like lines, in a regal shade of burgundy. I felt a dull sickly tug in the pit of my stomach not unlike the feeling one gets when one has forgotten something very important back in the house, like the keys, wallet, or infant.

It was a reply from a college. An acceptance letter. Or, more realistically, a rejection letter.

It wasn't from just any college, though. It was my First Choice college.

You know, the kind with intimidating architecture, ivy crawling up the sides of course, and a gorgeous campus teeming with lively, brilliant students. The kind that, when your guidance counselor sees it on your list, the first words out of their mouth are advising you to have LOTS of safety schools.

It was hopeless. There's no was I was accepted. There's no way I was accepted, not even if I'd joined a million afterschool clubs during my junior year. Not even if I were the star of some varsity sport during junior my year. Not even if I had studied extra hard and gotten top marks during my junior year. Not even if my heart hadn't been metaphorically wrenched out of my body and my life hadn't shattered spectacularly to pieces during my junior year.

I sighed. 'Well,' I thought. 'I might as well open it. They were nice enough to reply even though my transcript was fantastically crap compared to what they usually must receive. And went through the trouble of using such nice stationary, too...'

I dejectedly sat on my bed and broke the envelope's seal. I peered inside, confused. There were _so many _papers! Some on parchment, some on thick white printer paper, and there even seemed to be one on glossy paper of the same deep burgundy as the seal.

For some reason, I had always harbored the childish impression that college acceptance letters would be a single sheet of parchment that read one of two things; either, "Dear Bella: Congrats, you're in," or "Dear Bella: Haha, nope. P.S. You suck."

That, clearly, was not the case here.

I pulled out every paper and glanced at each. Every one of them was nearly black with blocks of text. Which one told me whether or not I was in? Am I going to get a mass of papers like this every time a college replied?

I thought of how many applications Edward had me fill out.

I shuddered.

I was going to have to ask Charlie buy us a more spacious recycling bin.

I skimmed speedily though the papers one by one. Then my eyes were drawn to a single word that stood out among the sea of flowery jargon: "accepted".

What?

Haha, silly Bella. The word was probably used differently in context.

I found the first period that came before the crucial word and preceded to read its sentence from the top. _We are please to inform you that Ms. Swan's exemplary transcript has been accepted by our Board of..._

WHAT???

I shot off the bed, jumping around in circles as high as my legs could propel me. I found myself laughing aloud and yelping random declarations of victory including, "YES!"and "I WIN AT LIFE!"

But how?

I stopped leaping in circles (I was quickly making myself dizzy anyway) and, brushing my distressed hair out of my eyes, grabbed the pile of papers. Flipping though them I saw that the glossy sheet was some sort of certificate and that the packet of white papers assured me that a booklet about offered courses was on its way, and contained all sorts of dates and guidelines for freshman orientation and the like.

Edward leapt to my mind. Was he somehow behind this? Maybe he knew I really like this college and embellished my application. And by "embellished", I mean "switched it with Alice's". Or maybe he seduced the secretary with that smile of his and, while she was distracted by his charm, added my name to their database.

I then thought of how badly Edward wanted me to attend college. He was going to be thrilled! (And coming with me, of course. I wasn't about to endure 4 more years without him.)

Now, I am a terrible dance. Absolutely miserable. Combined with my clumsiness, it's no mystery as to why I never voluntarily dance. But the thought of Edward happy made me _very_ happy and there was no one else in the house. A small victory dance couldn't hurt.

Wrong.

Only after a good five minutes of mad, uninhibited dancing (one of the more organized parts went something like shimmy, hand on heart, shuffle, twirl, moonwalk, twirl, shimmy), I noticed a highly amused Edward leaning back against my window sill. I froze like a deer before an oncoming car. His lips were pressed together in a taught line but that did little to suppress his growing grin.

Oh, God.

I thought I was going to die of embarrassment. Acceptance letter clenched tight in my palm, I felt the color rush to my face. My brain had seemingly fallen out the back of my head as I couldn't think of a single word to say.

So, in continuation of my deer-in-the-headlights theme, I bolted.

I'd taken all of two steps before Edward's arms caught me around the waist and he pinned me gently. He buried his face in my hair and laughed inaudibly, but uncontrollably. I scowled.

Edward pulled back slightly and pressed his forehead softly to mine. His eyes were a light gold, brighter still with amusement, which made me feel a little better. I liked my vampires well fed.

"You're certainly in a good mood," he noted. The curiosity in his voice was almost tangible.

I frowned up at him. "Yes, well, not any more. You shouldn't sneak up on me like that!"

"Nonsense. You're a great dancer."

"... Please, Edward. At least try to stop laughing when you say that."

The cheeky grin vanished from his face almost instantly. "I'm sorry," he apologized somberly, proceeding to kiss a line from my temple down my cheek. His tactic worked brilliantly. It certainly made me feel _much_ better and, I decided he was forgiven.

He pressed his lips delicately against the corner of my mouth. Hell, I'd get up and dance again if he wanted me to.

"Pray tell what would merit a dance like that," Edward murmured eloquently against my mouth.

I didn't answer right away; my brain had turned somewhat to mush. Luckily, the now wrinkled paper clenched in my fist reminded me of what had possessed me to shimmy in the first place.

"I got accepted!" I squirmed in his grasp, wriggling my arm up to show him the letter.

"Congratulation, Bella!" he beamed. I was about to ask him whether he seduced or bribed the secretary at the university, but he began to kiss me again and my mind evaporated as usual.

Edward suddenly paused. He pulled back and reached into his pocket, bringing out a tiny silver vibrating cell phone. He flicked it open.

"Hello?"

There was no answer from the other line except for a singular high-pitched squeal that lingered: "Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

Edward stared at his phone as if he suddenly wasn't sure what it was.

The phone continued to emit the shrill, hovering note. I thought it was a malfunction, but then he held the phone out to me.

He said, "It's for you."

I stared incredulously. Then he added, "It's Alice. She'd like to congratulate you."

I stared at the phone. I could still hear the distant squeal still going strong. Regardless, I took the phone and put it to my ear.

"... Alice?"

She stopped screaming and began speaking at the speed of light, "Bella! Congrats on getting in! I'm so happy for you! It was your first choice, right?"

"Yeah, it was," I said, grinning. The smile melted off my face as I realized that she probably saw me receiving my letter in a vision and most likely saw my dance as well.

"You know what this means, don't you?" Alice asked in a suddenly subdued, ominous tone.

"No," said slowly. Her hushed voice worried me.

"You're going to move away. Which means we'll have to buy load of new things! You'll need new comforters and sheets and pillows and drapes and rugs and lamp shades and bathrobes and slippers and towels and hand towels and hand soap and shower curtains and chairs and coffee tables and coffee table books and bookcases bookmarks and pencils and pens and felt-tip markers and white-out and highlighters and Sharpies and mini Sharpies and, and, and–! Stay put, Bella. I'm driving over right now. And I'm bringing _all_ of my credit cards."


End file.
